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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/23532454">one last you</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysfics/pseuds/fluffysfics'>fluffysfics</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Doctor Who (2005)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>But Mostly Hurt, Drunkenness, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Mild canon divergence, post-timeless children, punk Master, the Master’s time on Earth</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-04-07</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-18 07:06:52</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,053</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/23532454</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/fluffysfics/pseuds/fluffysfics</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>Still reeling after her escape from Gallifrey, the Doctor decides she needs one last happy memory of her oldest, dearest friend. </p><p>Things don’t go to plan.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Thirteenth Doctor/The Master (Dhawan)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>88</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>one last you</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>this is set in a universe where she didn’t get arrested by the Judoon, because it’s more fun that way!</p><p>also, I’m putting it in the same universe as my last ‘the Master was a punk on Earth’ fic- spot the recurring character!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>This was a terrible idea. The Doctor knew that from the moment it entered her head, and yet she couldn’t help herself. She’d just left her oldest friend to die, and she didn’t want...she <em>couldn’t</em> have her last memory of him be the hurt and betrayal they’d shared, the desperate anguish in his eyes. </p><p></p><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p><em>Take me to him when he was happy</em>, she’d asked her TARDIS. Her ship had groaned and complained, told her that it was irresponsible to cross their timelines in this way. The Doctor had patted her console and told her that she knew, she knew, but she had to see him. She wouldn’t talk to him, she just wanted to see him. One last visit, before she left him behind forever. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Fuck, she hoped it wasn’t forever. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Eventually, her TARDIS had caved, and now she was parked outside a pub. Islington, London, England, Earth. 27th December, 1978. The Doctor couldn’t imagine why the Master was happy in a pub, unless he was fighting some humans in there. Not really what she’d wanted to see, but she trusted her ship. She’d see him happy, and then maybe she could let this go. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Bracing herself, the Doctor walked out of the TARDIS. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Even from outside, she could hear the blaring throb of guitars, the chaotic thumping of drums- live music. Oh, she really wasn’t much in the mood for something loud. But she couldn’t back out now. Sighing, she ducked into the pub, and looked around. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>This floor was vaguely <em>smoky</em>, and full of people milling around and buying drinks. Doing her best to waft smoke out of her face, the Doctor picked her way through the crowd, searching for any sign of the Master. His familiar laugh, those bright purple socks, that awful chequered suit- anything. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He wasn’t here. And the Doctor was slowly becoming aware that she <em>really</em> didn’t fit in here. Everyone seemed to be wearing black, or something brightly coloured and ripped to shreds. The soft blues of her outfit were making her a target for stares, and she was quick to slink back towards the entrance, fully prepared to just ask her TARDIS to take her to another time. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>But there was a concert going on downstairs, and the Doctor could <em>sense</em> the Master’s presence somewhere nearby. He must be down there. Maybe he was picking pockets or something. She wouldn’t put that past him, if he was desperate. But he was supposed to be <em>happy</em>...</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Ignoring the odd looks she was getting, she hurried down the stairs to the bar’s basement. With every step, the music got louder, until she found herself standing on the edge of a crowd, a sea of people drinking and yelling and dancing along with the music. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Spotting the Master in this mess was going to be a nightmare. The Doctor kept to the edges of the room, dodging flailing arms and the occasional empty glass bottle being tossed into the corners. He was in here, she could <em>sense</em> him- </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>There. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>No. Was that him? The Doctor squinted, flattening herself against the wall- <em>why</em> was it <em>sticky</em>?- and stood up on her tiptoes to get a better look. Curse whatever she’d done to deserve being half a foot shorter than her last self. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>It was him, no doubt about it. He made something in the back of her head sing like a caged bird desperate to be free. It occurred to the Doctor that he’d probably noticed her presence, at least subconsciously, she should leave now that she’d seen him before he saw <em>her</em>, but- she couldn’t. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Master was dressed like she’d never seen him before, in a leather jacket and dark ripped jeans. He had his arms around people, <em>human</em> people- a woman with spiked black hair and the words ‘lavender menace’ scrawled on the back of her jacket on his right, and a man with a mohawk dyed bright green on his left. The three of them were right up close to the stage, dancing, if you could call it that. ‘Vaguely coordinated jumping’ was closer to the truth. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Doctor slumped back against the wall, and she stared at him. Shameless, because he couldn’t see her, because everyone down here was too busy watching the concert to care what she was doing. She’d never seen the Master look like this before, so utterly wild and carefree. Not even back when they’d been kids. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She’d asked to see him happy. She really should have known how much it would hurt. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Oh, Koschei,” she murmured under her breath. Quiet enough that even she couldn’t hear herself over the blare of the music. She shouldn’t be here, this was just driving the knife that was his potential death even deeper into her hearts. “I’m...<em>so</em> sorry...” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Master’s dancing faltered; he stumbled, and snapped his head around. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She felt a sudden blaze of his mental presence, loud and strong enough to drown out even the music. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>In an instant, the Doctor was gone, ducking low and sprinting for the door. Hoping desperately that he hadn’t seen her; knowing full well that he had. Maybe he’d been having too much of a good time to-</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“<em>Doctor</em>!”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Oh, who was she kidding? She darted up the stairs, out of the door of the pub and into the freezing late-night air, and bolted down a side alley. It was a dead end. Shit. She turned back, and found the breath knocked out of her lungs as the Master slammed her against the wall. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>His hair was a mess. He’d cut his beard short again, and his jacket had <em>spikes</em> on the shoulders. His t-shirt was black, with two broken hearts painted onto it in messy red ink. Had he done that himself? </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Maybe now was the time to stop making random observations and confront the fact that he was two inches from her face. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Hi,” she said. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Doctor.” He spat her name like a curse. She smelled alcohol on his breath, and ginger. He was properly drunk, then. Experimentally, she lifted a hand, and pushed at his chest. The Master stumbled back. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I’m sorry,” she said, already backing away. “I didn’t mean to let you see me, I-“ </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Master had grabbed a fistful of her shirt. He pulled her close against him, right into his face. The Doctor closed her eyes. She couldn’t bear to look at him like that. He was analysing her, she could tell that even with her eyes closed. It took him longer than usual, long enough that she thought he might give up, and then-</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You know, don’t you?” His voice was rough in her ear. “I told you everything.” He pushed her away suddenly, his face lighting up with a manic glee. “Tell me how I did it. Tell me how much it hurt you, Doctor, go on, indulge me.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She stayed silent, hair falling into her face as she glared at him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Boo. Still not broken enough to fuck with the laws of time that badly.” The Master tipped his head back, laughing. “Guess I fucked up again. No surprises there!”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You’re drunk,” the Doctor deadpanned. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“No <em>shit</em> I’m drunk, dear. Can’t a Time Lord have a little fun when he’s stranded on Earth?” He spread his arms wide, snapped his head forward to meet her gaze again, and cackled as she turned away to stare furiously at the wall instead. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“What are you doing, Master?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“What am I-“ He burst out laughing, the sound echoing off of the walls around them. The Doctor’s shoulders slumped, her hearts <em>ached</em>- what was <em>she</em> doing? </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Before she could say anything else, she was pressed up against the wall again, one of the Master’s arms across her shoulders and the other hand splayed next to her head. “I’m <em>surviving</em>, that’s what I’m doing. Let me guess- this’ll be <em>fun</em>. You’re jealous. You don’t like that I’m not sat in some shitty flat all alone, suffering. You don’t like that I’m having more fun with these humans than you ever will, because you <em>ruin</em> everything you <em>touch</em>. Just like you ruined <em>me</em>. You hear that, Doctor? <em>You ruined me</em>.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Cold rage burned through her, and she shoved the Master away as hard as she could. He stumbled, catching himself against the wall opposite, and he laughed again. The Doctor really wished he would stop doing that. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I don’t want you to be suffering,” she snapped. “I don’t. I’m <em>glad</em> you’re happy. Seeing you get along with humans- you know how badly I’ve wanted that? I’m glad you’re happy. I am. It’s- you deserve something good.” <em>Something good to take the edge off of how badly I’ve made you hurt</em>, she thought. <em>Something good to make up for the fact that you might be dead</em>. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She was angry, so angry, but not at him. Right now, she just <em>couldn’t</em> be angry at him. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Doctor took a step forwards, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes and rubbing them. Her head was a mess, she should have left the second she got the opportunity. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Warm hands- too warm, hot from frenetic dancing- closed around her wrists and pulled her hands away from her face. The Master was looking right at her again, and there was nothing hypnotic about his gaze, but she couldn’t tear herself away this time. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“I’m dead, aren’t I? Did you kill me, Doctor? Did you finally kill me?”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>She said nothing. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You don’t know. Oh, Theta...”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He had no right to sound that soft. He shouldn’t be able to twist her hearts so easily, but now the Doctor found herself aching, desperate to throw herself at his feet and apologise for hurt she hadn’t even caused him yet. Not this him. This Master didn’t know about being trapped in the Kasaavin‘s realm, didn’t know about his plan to trap her on Gallifrey, didn’t know about the Cybermen, the Cyber-Masters, the awful things she’d said to him and regretted the second they’d passed her lips. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He should be angry at her. He shouldn’t be <em>soft</em>. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You’re really drunk, Koschei,” she said quietly. “You won’t remember this.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“And I’m gonna get drunker before the night is over, love.” He let go of her wrists, and one of his hands slid up her face instead, rough palm resting against her cheek. “Let me give you something to remember me by.” </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Doctor wanted to question what he meant by that, but then the Master’s lips were against hers. She let him kiss her, let herself go soft, and then she shivered, and she gave in, and she kissed him back. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>One of her hands laced into his hair, fingertip brushing over his temple. Maybe it was cruel, but she pressed a time-bomb of sorts into his head; when he next fell asleep, he’d forget he ever saw her here. The Master seemed too drunk to even notice, and she tried not to reflect on how odd it felt to have the upper hand in telepathy for once. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He pulled away eventually, regarding her with a drunken sort of curiosity. She stared back, not even thinking about looking away this time. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“You could tell me what I did to you, if I’m too drunk to remember. And what you did to me.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>“Go back to your concert, Koschei. Go back to your friends.” The Doctor shoved a hand into her pocket, fumbling through a veritable dragon’s hoard of different coins, then pressed some money into his hand. “Buy yourself a drink on me.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>The Master tilted his head. “It’s been...unexpected, to see you, Doctor. You bastard. Thanks for the drink.”</p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>He turned and walked off before she could reply. The Doctor watched him leave, and quietly told herself that nothing she could have done would have convinced him to join her, back on Gallifrey. Nothing. She had to believe that, or she’d lose her mind. </p>
</div><div>
  <p> </p>
</div><div>
  <p>Then again, she’d come here in the first place. Maybe she’d already lost her mind. The Doctor took a deep breath, inhaled the scent of cold winter air and cigarette smoke and London, a scent she was never going to smell again without thinking of him, of <em>this</em>, and turned to walk back to the comforting warmth of her TARDIS. </p>
</div>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>hope you enjoyed this, comments and kudos are appreciated as always &lt;3</p></blockquote></div></div>
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